


Shiver (Or: Five Times it Wasn't About Sex and One Time It Was)

by round_robin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5+1 Things, ASMR, Hell, M/M, Masturbation, Purgatory, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:51:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4082032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's mind went kind of floaty and the world washed away, leaving only his mother’s nails gently scratching through his hair and the sound of her humming around a bite of pie. The smell of apple cinnamon and her perfume swirled through the kitchen, and for one long second, Dean knew life would never be better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shiver (Or: Five Times it Wasn't About Sex and One Time It Was)

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a gif set a while ago (can't find it now) that compiled different shots of Dean's reactions to demons calling him "pretty" or grabbing at his hair and stroking his head. There was some good meta attached but I had another idea: what if Dean has ASMR and touching his head is a really big deal for him? Obviously he'd be angry when demons try to do it.
> 
> ASMR stands for Autonomous sensory meridian response. It's best described as a pleasant tingling sensation from the scalp, head and neck area. Everyone has different triggers that activate it, like someone running fingers through their hair or whispering in their ear. My boyfriend always liked me playing with his hair and I stumbled across the definition of ASMR about a year ago and let me tell you, it filled in a lot of blanks for him. ASMR isn't necessarily a sex thing, just a nice feeling. Th podcast "Stuff Mom Never Told You" has an episode about it if you want to know more. They said something about a theory that everyone experiences ASMR but some people have a harder time finding their triggers. I never thought I had it until I went to get my hair cut a month ago and my head got all tingly when they washed my hair. It's nice and I do recommend watching some ASMR videos on youtube (warning, they seem like they might be kinky because it's a sort of role play, but really, it's not a sex thing) if you want to try and find ASMR triggers for yourself. And I didn't mean for this to go so long.
> 
> For me, it's just a nice sensation, but my boyfriend goes off like fricking fireworks, so it does hit people differently. That's the tactic I took for Dean: it hits him really hard, so of course he would guard himself and keep any un-trusted people from possibly activating it. Like I said, it's not a sex thing, but it can be and I wanted to show that in my fic. Five times it was just a nice, comforting thing, and the one time it wasn't. Enjoy!
> 
> More notes about the individual sections at the bottom. See a typo? Let me know about and it'll be caught and shot.

1.

 

Cognitive memory doesn’t kick in until about four or five years old, and even those early memories are hazy. Generally, it’s traumatic experiences that stick best. Dean had enough traumatic experiences from his adult life to remember, he didn’t need to dwell on the ones from childhood.

Mary died when Dean was four years old, and you bet he had every single memory of her rendered in crystal clear, high definition. The crinkles at the corners of her lips when she smiled, the smell of her hair, the color of her eyes, he knew it all. The hugs and kisses, when she whispered “you’re my angel,” to him at night. It was as sharp and real as if it happened an hour ago.

Still, there were some memories that blurred together. Lazy Sundays when it was just them, Mary humming as she did the dishes, Dean kicking his short legs underneath the table while he colored or ate lunch. It was one long Sunday in his mind, one he wouldn’t trade for anything.

This Sunday, Dean had a slice of pie in front of him. Mary was trying a new recipe for a friend’s baby shower and Dean got to be the tester, he loved that job. Every few minutes, Mary would take a break from cleaning up the kitchen and sweep over to Dean. Grabbing his fork with one hand, she took a bite of the pie, while the other hand wove its way into his hair. Her nails scratched lightly at his scalp and Dean closed his eyes.

Tingles ran across his skin and down his back, filling him with a happy, warm and fuzzy feeling. His mind went kind of floaty and for a second, the world washed away, leaving only his mother’s nails gently scratching through his hair and the sound of her humming around a bite of pie. The smell of apple cinnamon and her perfume swirled through the kitchen, and for one long second, Dean knew life would never be better.

 

2.

John returned from a hunt late in the night and immediately passed out across the bed. Without a word, Sam scooched over in the remaining bed to make room for Dean. The next morning, Dean got his brother ready for school and made sure he caught the bus on time. He stayed at the motel, waiting for John to wake up. He might need medical attention or just a hand packing them up before they were on to the next job. Best to let Sam enjoy his last day at school without having to think about moving. Again.

Around noon, John groaned and rolled over, rubbing at his eyes. Dean was right there with his field medkit, ready to patch his father up like a hundred times before. John waved a hand. “No, I’m fine. No injuries. Just a long drive.” He reached out and placed his hand on Dean’s back. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“I didn’t want you to wake up alone.” He set the medkit down and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You need anything? Water, coffee?” He didn’t offer whiskey, but if John asked for it, Dean would get it.

John shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. Give me like an hour and we can go get somethin’ to eat.”

“Sure.” Dean moved to get up from the bed and give John room to stand up and stretch out. Instead, John caught his arm and pulled him back down.

“Sit with me a minute? I need time to work up the energy to stand.”

“Okay.” Dean stayed in place. To fill the silence, he started telling John all about Sammy’s school work. How he got an A on his first test even though he missed most of the lessons from earlier in the school year. And, there was a science fair coming up next week and he entered a group project with two other students. “It’d be great if we stayed long enough to see how the project goes.” Dean was careful with his words. Flat out asking if they could stay would get him a firm no, expressing how nice it would be to stay might get them an extra week. John may be a lot of things, but he did like to see his boys happy, even if that didn’t come across well.

John nodded to himself. “We can probably do that. I’m pretty beat from my last hunt. Maybe a week’s downtime will do us all good.”

“Great.” Dean learned to hide his excitement a long time ago.

“Hey.” John reached up and put a hand on the back of Dean’s neck, squeezing a little. “Thanks for keepin’ everything together while I was gone.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

With a deep grunt, John sat up. “Oh, hell. Gettin’ to old for this,” he said with a smirk. Dean smiled back.

They sat together for a minute. Dean couldn’t help but notice John’s hand was still on the back of his neck. Scarred, crooked fingers started carding through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Dean closed his eyes and focused on the tingles running down his spine. A wave of calm flooded him and he sighed, content. It was just for a second, but a second was enough. John’s hand cupped around the side of his head, pulling him in closer. He brushed a kiss against Dean’s temple and stood up.

“Okay,” he grunted. “Let me shower, then we can go get somethin’ to eat.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. He was still a little floaty but was starting to come back down. “Thanks, dad.”

 

3.

The TV flipped over to that stupid info channel for the third time and Dean started around again. He didn’t want to close his eyes. Forty years of pain and blood, and trays filled with sharp silver instruments threatened to flicker behind his eyes the second he tried to sleep. The screams echoed in his ears, making him—

The home and garden channel had a thing about zen gardens. Dean watched that for a while. The door opened and he didn’t look up. “Hey,” Sam grunted at him and heaved the grocery bags onto the table. Dean grunted back, eyes focused on the smooth lines raked through the sand. The screen flashed red and sand became flesh for one haunting second. He changed the channel.

“Hey.” Dean flinched this time. Sam’s voice was much closer now and he hadn’t seen the overly large figure of his brother move. Sam held out a beer for him.

“Thanks.” He took it, completely ignoring his momentary... lapse. Sam sat on the other bed and stared at his brother, his own beer unopened in his hands. Dean eyed him. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

“Dean.” Uh oh, Sam’s voice was all soft, like he got when he was too drunk and wanted to hear stories about mom. Except he wasn’t drunk now. “You’d tell me, right?”

“Tell you what?” He stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes and see the little boy he raised suddenly covered with blood, a wickedly sharp knife sticking from his gut.

Sam ducked his head and sighed, lacing his fingers together to give himself a second of stall. “You said you didn’t remember Hell. And I believe you—I do—but if there’s anything you need to get off your chest. Talking about it might, I don’t know, make it... better? I mean, we have a history of bottling things up in this family. Then opening a different bottle and pouring whiskey out. I don’t want to keep doing that. Not after getting you back when, I never thought I’d see you again.”

Dean didn’t need to look. After so many years and so many injuries—physical and emotional—he knew when his brother was trying not to cry. He didn’t need to see that. He looked down at the remote in his hand and nodded. “Yeah,” he lied. “I’d tell you.”

“Good.”

They both pretended Sam wiping a hand across his face had nothing to do with the wetness in his eyes and finished their beers. Sam plucked the empty bottled from Dean’s hand and went to toss them out. When he returned, he sat right next to Dean, just a few inches of space separating them on the bed.

Sam didn’t say another word, he just lifted his hand to the back of Dean’s neck and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. A shiver ran through his whole body, the result of forty years without a single kind touch, let alone something like this—warm and affectionate touches that reminded Dean of happier days, of his mother and even the times when dad was sober. Usually, he’d hold himself back, keep his shivers and his moans silent. Not now, not after what he’d been through. Dean was going to wring every bit of happiness he could get before life was back to its usual behavior of kicking them when they were down. He tipped his head back, letting himself get lost. After a minute, his eyes dropped closed. No streaks of blood, no screaming, just the soft white noise filling his mind.

They hadn’t done this since they were kids. Dean sitting on the floor watching TV, Sam would come over and play with his hair. He remembered the satisfied little grunts and long, drawn out sighs his brother made whenever Sam scratched his scalp. It was as familiar as it was alien, all those long, horrible years separating them from their childhood, yet they were both transported back with this simple act.

All too soon, Sam’s hand dropped away to squeeze Dean’s shoulder before he pulled back all together. He stood up from the bed. “You should get some sleep.”

Dean nodded and spread out on the bed. Maybe this would keep the nightmares away for a little while.

 

4.

Lisa finished her shower and slid on one of her silky night dresses. They got back from her cousin’s wedding an hour ago and were in no rush. Ben had a “school project” and was staying over at a friend’s house tonight to finish it up. He told Dean earlier: there was no project, he just didn’t want to go to the wedding. Dean understood, what preteen liked dressing up and going to church for a day? So he and Lisa had the house to themselves, and Dean was waiting for this moment all night.

He lifted the covers for her and she slid into bed next to him. They had all night, but the way her fingernails ran down his chest did something completely different. The plan formed in his mind as soon as he saw the bride’s maid dress the other day. All the women in the wedding party got their nails done the day before the ceremony and light purple acrylic nails stroked their way down Dean’s chest. He got tingles just thinking about it.

“Lisa?” Bright eyes and a soft, warm smile looked up at him and Dean got nervous for the first time in... well, damn near forever. He’d never asked for this before. “Can, uh, can we do something... different, tonight?”

Her lips took on a devilish curve and she moved to straddle Dean’s lap. Naked legs brushed against his and he knew she wasn’t wearing underwear tonight. “Knew you’d want something when we finally got the house to ourselves.”

“It’s not a sex thing,” he blurted out, blushing at his own voice. Man, Dean hadn’t been nervous around women since he was sixteen. “It’s, uh...”

“Hey.” Lisa cupped his face and tipped his chin up, bringing their eyes together. “When have I ever said no?”

True. As far as sex went, they were pretty vanilla, but Lisa was always happy to... experiment. Dean nodded, more to himself, and asked, “Could you, uh, drag your nails through my hair? And, you know, scratch my head a little?” Lisa didn’t move. She didn’t say anything, didn’t frown, but she didn’t move. Dean started talking—babbling—just to fill the silence. “It’s not anything kinky, I swear. Just, uh, comfort, I guess? It’s something my mom used to do, and sometimes my dad and brother. I like the way it feels and it’s kind of, I don’t know, a family thing. You know how you rub Ben’s back when he’s sick and can’t sleep? It’s like that.”

“Of course,” she said. She didn’t want to say too much and possibly make Dean want to back out. He rarely talked about his family, the good or the bad, and Lisa didn’t expect him to. She knew enough of what his life had been like not to ask. But this was new, this was Dean letting her into something very deep and personal. No matter how happy she was that he was finally opening up, she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t make him regret opening up.

Lisa lifted her hands up through Dean’s hair, lightly scratching her nails against his scalp. “Like this?” She’d barely gotten past his ears when Dean closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the wall. A long, rumbling moan rolled out from his chest, so deep and content, Lisa could feel it all over. She had to steady herself and remember: this wasn’t a sex thing.

“Oh yeah,” Dean breathed out between full body shudders. “Don’t stop.”

The moans soon turned into directions. “Down near my neck a little more... oh yeah, rub my ears?... Back to the top of my head...” She went wherever he asked and the moans only got louder and deeper.

Finally, Dean stopped making noise and reached up, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and sliding her hands away from his hair. “Thank you,” he nearly purred. “That felt great.”

“Sure. I can keep going if you want?”

Dean shook his head and kissed her palms. “Too much of a good thing.”

He was very quiet for a minute, even more than his usual taciturn self. He rubbed his face against her hands, kissing them in a silent thanks. Lisa couldn’t help the happiness bubbling up inside her. For the first time since Sam’s death, she felt like Dean was actually here and present in their new life.

When he opened his eyes, the mischievous little spark he got in bed smiled out at her. In a quick move, Dean wrapped his arms around her and threw them both back on the bed. Lisa laughed as he pressed kisses to her neck. “Now,” he mumbled between kisses. “What do you want to do?”

 

5.

Whiskey sloshed around in Bobby’s glass as he walked towards the library, bottle in his other hand. After everything with Cas and Sam... well, they all really needed a drink, Dean just more so than most.

He half expected to find that boy watching his cartoon porn all over the desk, feet up, another bottle already in his hand. Instead, he was bent forward over the blotter, snoring quietly. Bobby eyed the book serving as Dean’s pillow. The Bible. One of the mass printed ones he kept as a spare, not his good King James. He guessed he could forgive the kid if he drooled on it.

Setting the bottle and glass down, he walked up behind Dean. He hadn’t seen him sleep like this in days, not since before Cas broke Sam’s head. Bobby supposed everyone had to break down at some point. Sam and Dean deserved it more than most, and rarely got it. All their lives, these boys could not catch a break. Bobby was ashamed to admit that, sometimes, he was the one pushing. Not now, now was time to fall back and lick their wounds, regroup and find the right book. The Bible was probably the best place to start for God Part Deux, better than anything else he could think of. He didn’t want to wake Dean. They could all use a night off, and Dean had so little rest in his life...

He smiled, suddenly remembering the first summer the boys spent with him. John had a hunt on the other side of the country and the boys were still too young to be involved. For once, John was being a good parent and didn’t _want_ them involved.

Dean was sitting in the library, barely six years old, staring up at Bobby’s book shelves. The kid damn near taught himself to read and was still a little shaky with some things, but damn if Bobby wasn’t proud of him. “Uncle Bobby?” he called.

Bobby walked in from the kitchen and set down some milk and a plate of cookies. “What is it, son?”

“Why do you have so many weird books? Rites of...” He squinted and stood up on his tiptoes. “Ma-majick? Why do they spell magic so funny?”

“It’s an old book. People used to spell things differently hundreds of years ago.”

A new light came into Dean’s eyes and he looked at the shelves again, almost like he was seeing the books for the first time. “Wow. These are hundreds of years old? That’s so awesome!”

Bobby smiled. “Come on, have a snack.”

Dean looked down at the plate: one glass of milk and only three cookies. “What about Sammy?”

It broke Bobby’s heart to hear that. Yes, it was good that he thought of his brother, but what kid turned down milk and cookies? Sometimes, that “take care of Sammy” line of John’s really irked him. “There’s more in the kitchen for Sammy when he wakes from his nap. Okay? These are for you.”

“Thanks!” With the fervor more fitting a six-year-old, Dean grabbed for a cookie and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth, making his soft baby cheeks even more round. As he ate, Bobby ran his hand through Dean’s hair and hummed softly under his breath.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. “Mommy used to pat my head like that,” he whispered. “I like it. It makes my brain all... fuzzy.” Bobby didn’t know what to think about that, but if he kid liked it, then he liked it.

Pulling himself from the memory, Bobby looked down at Dean and rested his hand on the back of his head. He dragged his fingers through Dean’s hair a few times. Dean’s face, serious even in sleep, softened a bit. A warm sigh escaped and he moved to get closer to whatever was stroking his head.

Still asleep, Bobby stayed with him for a minute, remembering the little boy Dean would always be to him. In a way, he wasn’t like Sam, Dean hadn’t been born to be a hunter. The first four years of his life were filled with hugs and naps and kisses from Mary. He was someone’s baby, more so than his brother. Fate dealt them both a shit hand, Bobby only hoped he helped make it a little better.

 

+1.

Benny’s large hand wrapped around Dean’s wrist and hauled him to his feet. “That was a close one, brother.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” He kicked at the dismembered body of the werewolf that was snapping at his neck not ten seconds ago. “Nice work, though, good clean cuts.”

“Thank you.” Benny sniffed the air to see if any other monsters were coming their way and scented Dean’s blood. Arterial blood smelled different than a simple flesh wound, and blood from the head had its own kind of smell. He grabbed Dean’s shoulders and turned him around, eyeing the back of his head where the hair was matted with red. “Looks like they got a piece of you.”

“Man.” Dean felt the back of his head and his hand came away bloody. “Man,” he said again, very nearly whining. Head wounds were bitch enough to patch with dad’s field medkit, they were nearly impossible in Purgatory.

“Oh quit fussin’. It’s probably nothin’. Let me look.” With all the collateral damage Dean’s body took in their skirmishes with Purgatory’s other residents, Benny was used to the smell of his blood. Did it make him hungry? Sure, but Benny was a patient man. He did not throw away a good thing for a moment of relief.

Dean didn’t even think twice. He bent his head forward to let Benny probe at the wound. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.

Benny’s strong fingers were capable of amazing tenderness, especially when he touched Dean. He parted the bloody hair to find the small scrape against his scalp. It was barely a brush burn, nothing like the sucking wound he feared he’d find. “Just like I said.” He smiled and stepped away from Dean. “Only a little scratch. You won’t bleed out.”

Dean didn’t say anything. In fact, he was strangely still. Sort of. A shiver ran through him from head to toe. Purgatory was a place of absolutes: black or white, pleasure or pain. Even with the sting at the back of his head, the mere ghost of Benny’s fingers was to enough to... Still, it was a surprise when the usually pleasant tingles took a turn for the erotic. The sudden bulge was... new. It wasn’t quite zero to full mast, but it was close enough. Dean moved enough to adjust himself, something he usually didn’t have to do right after a battle.

He shook it off. “C’mon,” he said. “Sun’s fallin’ fast and we need to make camp.”

Dean trudged ahead, pretending nothing happened. After all these weeks, he still under estimated how observant Benny was. It wasn’t the ever so slight change in Dean’s gait that tipped him off, which he might have missed any other day. No, it was the sudden, damn near overwhelming scent of arousal that poured off him. Benny had to stagger back a little. Well, he knew what his plans were tonight.

They found a cave and Benny set a snare outside to warn them of anything coming while Dean set up a fire. There was a perfect natural chimney in the back that would waft the smoke out, yet nearby tree cover would keep it hidden. Benny had to hand it to Dean, the man knew how to scout a good camp site.

Done setting traps, Benny returned to the cave and took off his jacket. Then, he shrugged out of his suspenders, letting them hang loose at his sides. A lump rose in Dean’s throat. He knew what it meant when Benny started stripping down.

Dean cleared his throat and turned his attention to the fire. “We all good out there?”

“We’re solid,” Benny said. “Anything gets within a hundred feet of us, we’ll know before they do.”

When Benny was in the mood to roll around a little, he drew it out. Started sitting next to Dean and slowly inched closer as the night wore on. Whether he didn’t want to spook Dean or liked the slow build was unclear. Tonight was different. He simply dropped down between Dean’s spread legs, his large hands caressing Dean’s thighs in a way that was really had to miss. “We gonna talk about what happened back there?” Benny wasn’t one to mince words.

And Dean wasn’t one to dodge. Still, he ducked his head. “Nothin’ happened back there.”

Benny sighed. “After all we been through. All we’ve... done, you still gonna lie to me?”

“I’ve never...” Dean trailed off and ground his teeth together. Why was this so hard? He told Benny everything, they went through hell together on a daily basis and he trusted Benny, maybe even more than he trusted Sam. But this... this was always hard to explain.

He did his best. Telling Benny about how fingers in his hair and nails on his scalp always did something extra for him, made his mind floaty and fuzzy, distracting him from reality for a minute or two. He did not mention how it started with his mother or how it was almost exclusively a family thing. He didn’t want to bring up Lisa and open that can of worms. But he didn’t lie. Benny was right, they’d been through enough together that it was damn near impossible to even try to keep a secret, why bother trying?

“It’s not usually like this,” he finished lamely. He didn’t try to deny his erection earlier. Dean liked to fight but he didn’t like it _that_ much.

Benny nodded. “How you wanna do this?” There was no question of “do you want to do this?” Clearly, Dean wanted even if he wouldn’t admit it, and Benny took any excuse he got to touch Dean. All that hot, human skin underneath his hands reminded him of what he missed, why he needed to get out of here, and what he needed to accomplish. And maybe, being around Dean made him just a little more human. Too long in monster hell and he forgot what it felt like. Dean gave him so much and Benny never hesitated to give back.

With inarticulate grunting and pointing more than words, Dean rearranged them so Benny was leaning against the cave wall and Dean was seated between his legs. His fingers stilled on his belt, his erection already prominent through the fabric. He shook his head. “I’ve never done it like this before.”

“It’s okay. I got you,” Benny whispered in his ear.

A shiver shot down Dean’s spine and he moaned. Benny hadn’t even started touching him yet, and using only the sound of his soft voice whispering in his ear, Dean was half on his way to being a puddle of goo. What was it going to be like when he actually touched Dean’s head?

He cleared his throat and brought himself together enough to open his belt and yank down his zipper. His cock sprang free and Benny purred at the sight. With his back pressed against Benny’s chest, he felt it more than heard it. “I hear you lick your lips and we’re done,” he joked.

Benny chuckled and rubbed his face against Dean’s shoulder, his beard scratching just right, sending more tingles through him. “No promises.”

“So, uh, just run your fingers through my hair.”

“I got it, chief.”

Well, there was nothing more for it now. Dean licked the palm of his hand and wrapped it around his cock, starting the first slow strokes. Benny lifted his hands, one on each side of Dean’s head, and began to rub circles in his hair. The reaction was almost instant. Dean’s hand tightened on his cock and he let out a long moan. “Oh... oh fuck.”

“Good?” Benny asked, his lips right next to Dean’s ear.

Dean gasped, the hand on his cock moving faster, precome slicking his fingers on every stroke. “Don’t stop.”

There was more than one reason they didn’t kiss. Benny’s habit was to work his way down: lips to jaw, to neck, to chest; even with all they’d been through, Dean still flinched when Benny got too close to his neck. Hunter’s reflexes, he supposed, it didn’t bother him. But with Dean so lost in sensation, he saw his chance. One hand scratching through Dean’s hair, he used the other to pull back his collar and swipe his tongue over salty skin.

Dean arched like he was on a string. “Fuck!” he moaned.

Benny smiled to himself. While Dean wasn’t a man of many words, reducing him down to one was something of an accomplishment. “You like that?” he whispered in Dean’s ear, letting his tongue trace the shell. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean’s other hand drop down to tug at his balls.

They were both almost totally clothed and this was the hottest sex Dean had ever had. His mind was lost in a floaty haze while his skin sparked and tingled and shivered. He shook in Benny’s arms, his grip on his cock getting tighter, and faster, until—

“Fuck!” Dean shouted, come spurting from the tip of his cock. For a second, Benny forgot what he was doing and just stared. Damn, he hadn’t seen anyone come that hard since their first tumble, and that was after weeks of forced celibacy that was often the reality of Purgatory.

Dean slumped back against Benny, panting harder than after a fight, his hands lying limply in his lap, covered with his own come. They didn’t speak at first. Benny grabbed one of Dean’s hands and brought it up to his lips, licking away the sticky come. Dean moaned again.

Once he was all, uh, clean, Benny had to zip him up and move him far enough away from the fire to sleep safely. He nodded his thanks, eyes already closed. Dean was truly down for the count.

As Benny settled in for the night, Dean lifted one exhausted arm and squeezed Benny’s knee. “Thanks,” he mumbled. Benny just nodded.

The End

 

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3: so this is very much NOT Wincest. When it comes to Wincest, I have a very firm policy of: your ship not my ship and that's okay. This is literally supposed to be one of those comforting little things close family member do for each other. So, if this reads like there might be "more" between them, I didn't mean it like that. Dean just got back from Hell and Sam is happy to have him back, that's all.
> 
> Part 4: I have never used press on nails before in my life and don't know how well they hold up. If they wouldn't hold up to scratching Dean's head like this, well, shoot. I liked the imagery though with Dean seeing the... other use for Lisa's nails.
> 
> Part 5: this takes place in the weeks after Cas swallows the souls of Purgatory. We kind of see it as a montage in 7x01 Meet the New Boss and Dean seems defeated by the whole thing and says he's not going to help. I imagine for a few days after it happened, Dean did everything he could to help before giving up. This is in those few days.
> 
> Part +1: the idea is that Purgatory lacks shades of gray, throwing Dean's ASMR into high gear and making it more of a turn on than it was before.


End file.
